


Anywhere

by suyari



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dirty Dancing, M/M, Stucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5035450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Objectively, Steve’s always known Bucky’s an excellent dancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anywhere

Objectively, Steve’s always known Bucky’s an excellent dancer. When the universe put Bucky together he was injected with a natural grace and instinctive sense of balance that proved just as handy in combat as in the dance halls. But where music of their time had left bodies in an almost constant state of vibration, slowing down only long enough to let its captives catch their breath before winding them up again, the music of the future cycled through so many different tones, it left Steve dizzy. And the dancing…

There was more to dancing now than ever before, and Steve was even more hopelessly lost than ever. He’d thought at first, when they’d all agreed to go out together that he’d have a companion in Bucky, who was just as out of time as himself. And for the first half an hour or so, Bucky sat beside him, sipping his drink and scanning the dancefloor like an operative on a mission. He should have known better. 

Bucky had never been able to sit still for long when music was thrumming through the air. He watched, only slightly concerned, as Bucky picked his way across the room, moving to join Clint, Natasha and Sam. He shifted into the rock of the crowd, finding a place for himself - as effortlessly as ever - and to Steve’s utter amazement began moving as if he’d been born to it. 

Steve inhales the sip of his drink and immediately begins to cough. Tony pounds on his back, making no effort to hide the fact that he’s laughing. Rhodey’s a little more discrete about handing him one of the napkins and Steve thanks him with a wheeze, pressing it to his lips hard. His eyes won’t leave Bucky, but his aren’t the only ones. He’s more than used to this. Sitting at the table, keeping it for everyone, while Bucky cuts a rug with any and every willing body, leaving a trail of hot, breathless, clearly aroused partners - and spectators - in his wake. But the future is not the past, and the dancing is a thousand times more likely to get them all in trouble. And also, Steve absolutely does _not_ appreciate how blatantly obvious the crowd around them is looking at Bucky. Their eyes sweeping over the length of his body, taking in the wide spread of his shoulders and the way muscles in his torso work, and how his hips seem capable of independent motion. The flare of interest as they make the mental connections, bodies beginning to move in complementary patterns all around him. 

Bucky sinks lower, smiling at Nat and Steve’s jaw works as he watches the crowd shift around them. Bucky’s dancing around her, making her laugh, and it’s just two friends enjoying a night out. But Bucky’s focused on Nat, so he’s pulling out stops meant to tease her and Clint, and just as effectively reeling in half the dance floor. His pants were tight enough _before_ he spread his knees so wide, and as he throws his arms up, his already tight shirt rides up his sides, exposing slick skin and the cut of muscle only constant attention - and super soldier serum - could achieve. Steve respects the fact that Bucky feels _safe_ in clothing he wears like a second skin. He would _never_ want to take something so important from him. Generally, it isn’t even something he takes note of, other than the fact that Bucky only really wears sweats around him - and recently the team - and the warmth in his gut it leaves that Bucky still trusts him that deeply. But, here, now, all Steve can register is the way the clothes hide absolutely _nothing_. And if their eyes aren’t caught up in his torso or his crotch, people are staring at his ass, which Bucky is moving in a way Steve only recently learned is actually not just possible but a legitimate dance move. One, Bucky is apparently - _unsurprisingly_ \- very, very good at. 

Clint swings a leg over Bucky’s, and Bucky drops back into Nat and he’s laughing at the ceiling as they move together. Sam whoops beside them and follows them down, but doesn’t tangle in, and Steve feels something twist in his gut. He hasn’t seen Bucky this happy, this carefree in so long. He’s been healing, and they have good days and bad days and in between days, but this is the closest they’ve ever been. Where, minus the actual movements, if Steve just looks at his face, it’s like being back there again, in a dancehall in Brooklyn, with his back to the wall, as Bucky warms the whole damn place up with the fire God gave him. 

He swallows and crumples the napkin in his hand. 

Somehow they don’t fall over there on the dancefloor, despite the complicated contortion they’ve managed to get themselves into. The music’s slowed a little and their movements draw out and Steve finds it a little harder to breathe. He’s not even paying attention to the words. Just the way Bucky’s got Clint bent back over his thighs. There’s an actual **_circle_** around them now. 

“Wow,” Tony says from beside him. “I wonder what part of assassin training that’s categorized as.” 

There’s the distinct - and now familiar - sound of Rhodey’s hand making contact with Tony’s head. “Tony,” he says, with the authority only a best friend can wield. “ _No_.”

“I’m just saying-!”

Steve can practically feel Rhodey’s look. 

Tony huffs and leans back in his seat, kicking his legs up. 

“He’s just jealous,” Rhodey informs them. “He never could dance without a little help.” He turns his head, presumably to look back at Tony, because his voice is slightly off center when he adds, “Couldn’t dance any better with it, mind. But, could never convince him of that.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Steve replies, feeling the need to console Tony for some reason. Rhodey could probably dance too. “I can’t dance either.” 

“Now _that_ I don’t believe!” Maria exclaims, pointing at him with her drink in her hand. 

Steve shrugs, eyes still on their friends, as Thor comes stomping through the crowd back toward them. “Was never really healthy enough; when I was, wasn’t really the time.” 

The music picks up, something with a heavy bass and people start jumping. Thor redirects and meets up with the members out on the dancefloor. He says something Steve can’t hear, then throws his head back in that lion’s roar of a laugh of his. Sam laughs and pats his arm and then they just start jumping - for the hell of it Steve thinks. 

“What about you Bruce?” Maria asks.

“Oh no,” he replies, hands up in front of him. “Just be glad I’m here.”

“I can jump,” Tony says, hopping free of his seat. He moves around them, spins once and offers her his hand. “My lady.” 

Maria laughs, finishes her drink, takes his hand and slips free of her own seat. “Come on, Steve!” 

Steve holds up his hands. “I’m good, thanks.” 

“Are you telling us, the great Captain America can’t out jump everyone in this darn place?” Tony prods. 

Steve’s eyes narrow slightly at the jab. “This isn’t dancing,” he protests. 

Rhodey gets up and throws his arm about Steve’s shoulders, using his weight to encourage Steve free of his chair. “Come on. You’ll be safer if you give in now.” 

Sighing, Steve turns to Bruce, who smiles. “I’ll be fine. I swear. Go, have fun.” 

Steve allows himself to be escorted into the crowd, looking back to check on Bruce twice. But Jane, Pepper and Darcy return from the ladies room and pile in on either side of him. Steve relaxes at the sight. He knows what it’s like to be the one holding up the wall, and he’d rather not have left Bruce to do it alone if it could be helped. 

“Steve!” Bucky cries in delight at the sight of him on the dancefloor. He’s flushed and sweaty, several strands of hair have fallen free of his bun, and he’s smiling like Steve hasn’t seen him smile since 1941. He throws both arms around Steve and drags him close. “About time, you punk!” He looks over Steve’s shoulder at Rhodey. “Did he give you any trouble?” 

“Nope!” Rhodey replies. “I’ve been handling _that_ one for so long, it’s not even a challenge.” He jerks his thumb at Tony as he says it, but there’s a warmth in his smile Steve recognizes. 

Bucky must too, because his arms go tighter around Steve and he shouts over the music, “Thanks!”

“Any time!” Rhodey replies, before turning to keep a weather eye on his own best friend. 

“Gonna dance with me?” Bucky asks, swaying them even as everyone around them seems to be lost to some sort of wild flailing and spastic jumping Steve still can’t quite make out, even though they all seem to understand the pattern. 

“Still don’t know how,” he reminds him. 

Bucky leans in so he can feel him hum in response, the vibration transferring between their chests, and the air between Bucky’s lips and Steve’s ear. “‘Bout time you learned, don’t you think?” he asks. “Or you still waiting on the right partner?”

Steve snorts and slides both hands into Bucky’s back pockets. Bucky rocks into him, his entire body moving against Steve’s in a way that somehow feels as if it’s _just_ for him. “Found one a long time ago. Back in my day though, couldn’t keep up.” 

Bucky smirks and flexes his arms about Steve’s shoulders, hands finding their way into his hair. “You can keep up now,” he points out.

“Yep.”

“So…” He leans back, arching in Steve’s hold, hands keeping him close, even as he uses his body to mime something Steve’s fairly certain he’s not reading incorrectly. Not if the way Bucky’s grin flashes the same as his eyes when they meet Steve's again. “Gonna dance with me?”

“Still not sure this is dancing,” Steve tells him, spreading his legs slightly so he can steady them. 

“Oh doll,” Bucky replies, tangling their legs together. It’s all coordination, balance and strength, but Steve can only seem to focus on the way it feels as Bucky moves back into him. “This is the _best_ kind. Been wanting to dance with you like this for… _decades_.”

Steve flushes, knowing Bucky can feel his body reacting. Bucky doesn’t even try to play it off, smirks and toys with him even more. Leans in close, fingers lost against his nape, sending shivers up and down Steve’s spine as their hips wind circles about one another obscenely. 

“How about...we get in a little practice right now,” he murmurs against Steve’s ear. “And when we get home, I’ll really show you something.” His tongue making contact with Steve’s earlobe sends a jolt through Steve’s entire body, the tug of his teeth suggestive and playful, before he kisses the space just below his ear. 

“Fuck, Buck,” Steve hisses, using his grip on Bucky’s ass to drag him impossibly closer. 

“And people think you’re just a pretty face.”

Steve laughs, hands freeing themselves to splay all over Bucky’s back. Bucky throws a leg over his hip and Steve loses himself to the motion, dragging his hand over the length of his thigh. 

Dancing’s changed a lot. But, for all the movements are different, the feelings are the same. The rush of adrenaline. The bass against the race of a heartbeat. The desperate lungfuls of air. The pull of bodies. The scurry for cool drinks. And the way the music can bring people together. For one night or the start of forever.


End file.
